Bluebells on the Hill

by Barbara McMahon

  'We mustn't offend our guest's gentle sensibilities,' Mac said joining them. 'From now on, I'll be the model host and guide. Please note on your left is a five acre pasture. It will support over ten head of horses during our growing season, with supplements. We have irrigation for continuous growth of grass during the summer months. Ahead is another pasture.'

  The tour of the ranch was thorough and informative, though once or twice Amanda suspected Mac was deliberately throwing facts and figures so furiously at her to try to overwhelm her. She listened intently, concentrating on keeping it all straight, in spite of him. All the numbers she could not be expected to remember; the basics of ranching she was already familiar with. It wasn't all that difficult.

  John-Michael led the way when the trail began to narrow. Amanda followed with Mac bringing up the rear. Curving through the trees, switching back as the terrain grew steeper, the trail cut through the undergrowth. In some places, the branches and leaves met across their path, the horses forcing them apart as they continued their plodding climb.

  The air was cool in the dappled shade, a small breeze ruffling the uppermost limbs of the ponderosas. Birds fluttered, chattered; squirrels and mysterious rustling in the undergrowth could be heard now that conversation was impossible. Amanda's heart swelled with happiness. She loved this land, she loved riding. Maybe she could get a horse, if she could arrange her travel schedule to warrant enough usage to justify the expense. Maybe she could even work out some arrangement with Mac for boarding the horse.

  She stifled a laugh at that. She could imagine how co-operative he would be to make her life more appealing in Timber, when all he wanted was for her to leave so he could obtain her land. No, she'd have to find another solution.

  'We're here,' John-Michael called.

  The riders burst forth from the trees, into the bright, sunlit open field, surrounded on three sides by the thick Sierra forest. On the fourth side the meadow ended in a sheer drop; beyond, only sky and endless mountains and valleys to the south of the field.

  'Oh!' Amanda's eyes lit up with the sight. It was magnificent. Involuntarily she stopped her horse, just gazing at the smoky mounds in the distance. In one valley a suspicious glint of light suggested a river or lake.

  John-Michael dismounted, tethering his horse. Mac followed suit, looking to Amanda, still enthralled with the view.

  'Need help?' he asked, reaching up to grasp her by the waist.

  'I can manage,' she protested, as the warmth of his fingers penetrated her shirt, his strength against her body. It seemed effortless, the ease with which he lifted her from the saddle and set her down on the grass. Amanda could feel her heart race with his nearness. She kept her eyes fixed on his throat, the brown column rising from his blue-checked shirt, the pulse at the base strong and steady.

  'Thanks.' She didn't recognize the thready voice as her own. She took a deep breath to strengthen it. Stepping back, she was reluctant to break contact, still was realistic enough to realize safety lay in distance.

  'You're welcome.' A trace of amusement in the timbre.

  'Can I help unpack?' Amanda joined John-Michael. He had already pulled his saddle-bags from his mount and was moving towards a flat area nearby.

  'We can just pull it all out and start eating.'

  Amanda settled herself on the warm grass, the forest behind her, the view before her. Contentedly, she sat in the blazing sun, munching on a sandwich as she gazed off into the distance, not talking, only half listening as John-Michael and Mac exchanged remarks.

  Replete from eating, Amanda's eyes began to grow heavier, the balmy air and hot sun joining to make her positively sleepy. Slowly she sank back upon the scented grass, pulling her hat over her eyes, her lids closing, the warmth of the sun a gentle blanket, the breeze moving softly against her skin, keeping the sun from being too hot. Amanda drifted off to sleep.

  'But Dad, there's got to be some time when it is okay. What about secret agents? You don't think they can function without deceit.'

  Gradually Amanda was becoming aware of the man and boy talking. Bit by bit she became more awake. She remained lying down, idly listening, not at first understanding the trend of the conversation, still dozing.

  Mac hadn't replied immediately to John-Michael's comment. When he did, Amanda had almost forgotten what John-Michael had said.

  'Probably most of our problems in the world today are due to deceit of one form or another. But, I grant you, due to the way things are, it might be necessary for a spy or whatever you want to call him to be deceitful. But that doesn't apply to day-to-day living, especially here in Timber. Deception is wrong, John-Michael, it is not a basis for any kind of interaction.'

  'I still think it is acceptable in some circumstances,' he muttered.

  Mac caught it. 'Like what?' he asked sharply.

  'I don't know. Like if you really didn't like a lady's dress and she asks you, so you say it is pretty or something.'

  'That's hardly the same thing, though a really clever person can come up with an honest reply which won't insult or hurt the lady. I suspect I'm rather rigid in my views on this, but there it is. A person is either straightforward or not. Ones that are not, aren't to be trusted. Better to stay away from them. I have very little tolerance for lies and deception.'

  'Me, too, Dad. Only sometimes it might be justified. That's all I'm trying to say.'

  'Um.' Mac's reply was non-committal.

  'Billy Oldmyer's folks are having a big barbecue next weekend. I think most of the guys from school are going. Good chance to see them all again if I can go. It seems like a long time since school got out.' John-Michael changed the subject.

  Amanda lost track of the conversation, caught up in Mac's words on lies and deceit, wondering what had been the starting point of the conversation, why they were discussing deceit in the first place. What would he think when he discovered her position was based on a lie by omission? She wanted to share with him her reasons for not letting neighbors know who she was, but now wondered if she could, and still maintain some sort of friendly relationship. He seemed so very adamant against deceit of any sort.

  On the other hand, she could not envisage herself adhering to this role for years just because of his views. Once she knew some people, and they accepted her for herself, she had no objection to the whole world knowing what she did for a living. She was proud of her work, of her accomplishments. It was just initially that she did not want those accomplishments to affect her acceptance in the community.

  What a quandary. She wanted Mac to think well of her. Why, she refused to closely examine. If she wanted to clear it up, she had better do it soon. Before it got worse.

  With the decision made, she stretched, coming fully awake and slowly sat up.

  'Gosh, Sleepyhead, we thought you'd sleep all afternoon?' John-Michael said.

  'Your snoring scared all the animals off,' Mac said.

  'I don't snore,' she replied disdainfully.

  'How do you know?' John-Michael asked.

  'Someone must have told her,' Mac replied, his eyes watching her.

  She gave him a very speaking glance, unaware it had no effect because her sunglasses hid her face. 'Someone did, as a matter of fact,' she said sweetly, 'my sister.'

  'I didn't know you had a sister,' John-Michael said with interest.

  'Oh, yes. I'm one of five, two girls and three boys. Plus, my mother’s from a large family, my dad's from a large family and their brothers and sisters also married people from big families. I had forty-three cousins within a ten mile radius of town.'

  'Gosh, I'm an only child; Dad is too. I don't know about my mother.'

  'She had a sister, but no kids there, last I heard,' Mac said, gathering up the remnants of lunch. 'I've work to do. Are you two heading back now?'

  'Yes. I've some things to do, too. It's been lovely, though. Thanks for asking me, John-Michael. You have a beautiful place here.’

  'Glad you like it, Mandy. Come and ride any time.
That's all right with you, isn't it Dad?'

  Mac was quiet for a moment and Amanda couldn't resist, 'Thinking up an honest answer that won't insult me, Mac?'

  'Eavesdropping, were you?'

  She grinned easily. 'Only the last few minutes, just as I was waking. Don't worry. I won't come riding if I'm not wanted,' she said with scarcely any pang.

  'I'll go with you a few times, make sure you can find your way around--and don't neglect or abuse my horses.'

  'Charming.' She stood, reconsidered. 'Thank you, I might like it after all.' The two of them, alone, riding; what better opportunity for sharing confidences?

  Mac left them before they reached the barn, riding across the field, erect, yet at ease in the saddle, his hat low on his face to protect from the sun.

  Amanda watched until he was lost from view. It had been a nice day, made even more so by Mac's unexpected arrival. John-Michael was waiting for her when she turned back.

  'Tell me about growing up with forty-three cousins. It must have been fun.'

  'Oh, it was. We’re all close, some of each age, you know, so everyone has someone special. Holidays are the best. Aunt Meg has the biggest place, so we almost always go there for Christmas.' Amanda recounted holidays on the ride to the barn. John-Michael listened with great interest, asking questions, laughing, sharing her memories wistfully.

  'How did you ever leave?' he asked as they unsaddled the horses.

  'Well, a couple of us work together, try to get home a few times each year, though it's been a while since we've been back this last stretch. The others are all grown, too. Some married and moved away. We still see each other whenever we can. It was great fun and I loved it. But I like California, too. This is where I want my home, for my kids to have happy memories.'

  'Yeah, I guess so.' John-Michael was quiet as he brushed down his mount, led him to the corral and turned him loose inside. Amanda was right behind him.

  As they watched the horses amble away, he spoke again, pensively. 'I guess if Dad and Mom had stayed together, there would have been more kids. It's hard to imagine, though.'

  'Your father’s still fairly young. He could marry again, have more.'

  'Wouldn't be the same. I'm almost grown now. Well, maybe I wouldn't have liked sharing anyway. Want to come to the house for a Coke?'

  'No, thank you, some other time if I may. I've had fun today. Thank you for asking me. It's a great ranch, John-Michael. I would like to see it again.'

  'Sure, any time. I might drop by tomorrow for another lesson.'

  'Good. See you then.' With a smile and wave, she was off. But she couldn’t help wishing Mac had ridden back to the barn with them. That’s he’d been the one to offer her free access to his ranch.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Amanda dressed with great care for Elizabeth Burke's dinner party. She had not seen Mac since the picnic. John-Michael had come for another lesson, not referring to the picnic, nor to the embrace he had interrupted, but smiling at Amanda more than before. She, of course, did not refer to either; what could she say? Besides, the interrupted embrace had only been a kiss. Only a kiss? She grew warm all over whenever she thought about it. Well, then, maybe a little more than just a kiss.

  Amanda decided to throw caution to the wind and really dress for dinner. If someone recognized her, so be it. Her reason for keeping her identity secret now seemed silly. She had made no effort to make friends in town. She kept to herself and soaked up the solitude. Time to be herself and let the chips fall where they may.

  And she wanted to look her best. She washed and curled her hair, brushing it until it gleamed, soft and wavy around her face. Make-up was subtly donned, enhancing her blue eyes and high cheek bones. She wanted to look especially nice–for the other guests, she told herself, thinking of a particular other guest. Her intent was to forever erase the hippie image, if she could.

  Her dress was a soft, creamy light-weight fabric with high ruffled collar, long sleeves with ruffles capturing her wrists. It clung to her figure, outlining her firm breasts, slender waist and rounded hips. Amanda was pleased to see she had put on a little weight since her summer began. She had been too thin at the end of her last tour. This dress made her feel feminine and alluring. She wrinkled her nose and turned from the mirror. She was not out to allure anyone.

  The dress swayed gently as she walked, molding her slight frame, displaying her figure to advantage as she moved. Mac and John-Michael would be here soon to pick her up. She would didn’t want to keep them waiting. Nervously she fingered her skirt, then chided herself for her foolishness. She, who had performed many times before thousands of people, was nervous of a man coming to pick her up to drive her to a small dinner party. Honestly! One would think it mattered.

  Gazing out the window, Amanda paused. It did matter. She was anxious that he should like her. Maybe more than like her. She wanted it to be for herself, however. For Mac to value her for what she was, not for the fame she had achieved. In a moment's conversation she could clear up the less than complimentary image he had of her, could clear up any misconceptions about her situation, chance his anger about deceit and let him know she was a hard-working, successful member of society.

  Still, stubbornly, Amanda clung to the notion of being wanted for herself, as she was, not for what she had accomplished. She wanted him to want her as he knew her. Let the explanations come later. Sighing softly, she wondered if it were a pipe-dream.

  She heard the truck before she saw it turn into the drive. Only it wasn't the old gray truck, but a gleaming maroon and silver Ford with MHR entwined in a fancy monogram on the doors. It looked new, powerful, expensive. Obviously the vehicle they must use when going to shows, rodeos, wherever. It reflected more the successful ranching endeavor Amanda suspected Mac ran than his old gray pickup.

  Fluffing her hair one last time, she grabbed her handbag. Taking a deep breath, just as she did to calm herself before going on stage, Amanda flung open the door.

  Both Mac and John-Michael were getting out of the truck. Both were dressed in dark suits. While appreciating how nice they both looked, Amanda was especially conscious of how superbly Mac filled his out. His light shirt threw his tanned face into greater contrast. The lack of his hat was a startling change, his auburn waves gleaming in the late sun. John-Michael remained by the truck as Mac advanced to the steps, studying her, his face impassive.

  'Hi.' Amanda smiled brightly. 'Not your usual vehicle, I see.'

  'No, this one's for show. Thought it more appropriate for tonight than the gray one. Glad now I did. You look very ... nice.' His eyes strayed to her lips as he spoke.

  Amanda felt the nervousness again, quickly licking her lips. She moved towards the truck, admiring it. Keeping everything on a casual basis.

  'Hi, Mandy,' John-Michael easily greeted her. 'Don't think we'll be too crowded, do you?'

  'It's a big truck. Nice, too.' She slid in as John-Michael held the door. Mac climbed in the driver's side, only inches from Amanda. She sat primly upright. When John-Michael sat down, it was a very close fit. Even more confining as Amanda became more and more aware of Mac's every move. He brushed against her turning to see out of the back window when reversing to the main drive; the contact sent vibrations throughout Amanda's whole body.

  Afraid she'd give herself away, she turned to John-Michael.

  'Been practicing?'

  'Not much, I've been busy. I like your hair that way. It's pretty, all fluffy.'

  'Thanks.'

  Amanda looked out of the windscreen. John-Michael had been her major concern. He was the only one in Timber she knew for certain listened to her music, had at least one CD. If he didn't recognize her, perhaps she exaggerated her fame. Imperceptibly, she relaxed.

  It was, fortunately, not a long drive.

  Elizabeth Burke's house was as stately as its owner. The old Victorian residence, freshly painted, sat in the middle of a manicured lawn, with formal flower-beds flanking the path. A small fence surrounded the
garden. There were already two other vehicles drawn up before it when Mac pulled the truck to the curb.

  In only a moment Elizabeth was greeting them at her door ushering them into her living room. Two other couples were already present, an older man and a much younger, blonde woman on the sofa. Near the fireplace a man and woman about Mac’s age were studying a figurine.

  'Mac. So good to see you.' The blonde rose swiftly and came to meet him, smiling prettily. 'It's been too long!'

  'Sally, may I introduce Mandy Smith,' Elizabeth said, intercepting Sally. 'Sally Sutherland. And her father, Henry Sutherland. Henry’s Timber's pharmacist,' Elizabeth said. Mr Sutherland had risen and followed his daughter to greet the newcomers, though at a more leisurely pace.

  'How do you?' Amanda murmured, shaking hands. “I thought Paul owned the pharmacy,” she said, remembering the name on the sign in town.

  'My father started the drug store. He still comes in a few days a month,” Henry said.

  The couple by the fireplace turned, friendly smiles of welcome on their faces as they joined the others.

  'Ron and Pamela Haversham. This is Mandy Smith, she's a neighbor of Mac's; the singer I was telling you about.'

  'How do you do?' Amanda murmured again, smiling at the Havershams.

  'Ron's on the Festival Committee, so you'll see quite a bit of him as the time draws nearer,' Pamela said with a fond look at her husband. 'Have you sung in front of a large audience before?'

  'Yes,' Amanda answered briefly.

  'You might even find a career in it,' Mac murmured softly, for her ears alone.

  Amanda refused to rise to the bait. She smiled sunnily up at him. 'Maybe.'

  Sally placed a perfectly manicured hand on Mac's arm. 'Come and talk to me. I know you aren’t the least interested in the festival.'

  Amanda glanced at Sally, then back at Mac, a mischievous smile lighting her face. There was a woman on the make if she ever saw one.

  'Yes, do go talk with your friend. I'll be fine with my new acquaintances.'

  With a hard look at Amanda, as if warning her to watch herself, he went with Sally. They sat on the sofa, Sally plunging immediately into an animated discussion designed to absorb Mac's full attention.